Heard You Fck Through the Wall
by EnchiladaDan
Summary: Cas is still an angel, but his interest in Casa Erotica has him engaging in some very human past-times. But he's not the only one "dancing with himself". Explicit content. Title taken from "Satellite Mind", by Metric.


Dean pressed his head right above the headboard, against the wall, and listened. Sam was gone for the night – he'd actually managed to seal the deal with a cute redhead, giving Dean a thumbs-up on his way out the door of the bar earlier that night. Dean could have had someone too, if he wanted. But he didn't want anyone in the bar. He wanted _this_.

The first time it had happened had been an accident. Dean thought he heard the _Casa Erotica_ soundtrack when he was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. He came out, expecting to bitch Sam out only to find a hastily-scrawled note from Sam on his night-stand: "Dean, Need ingredient for spell. Going back to the bunker. I'll be back in a few hrs. –Sam." He put down the piece of paper, and raised an eyebrow. If that wasn't Sam, then it must've been Cas. The boys had wanted him along for the hunt, but checked him into a room of his own after he had started watching porn in a room full of dudes for the _second_ time.

Dean had said, "Look Cas, don't wing out on us, but Sam isn't cool with you looking at porno with us in the room. I, on the other hand, couldn't care less. You're curious, it's normal. But unlike me, Sam's never grown up with a little brother, so he's being pissy. Here – you're right next door." He handed Cas a key to the room.

After the events earlier that day, he thought the angel would get right down to it. But he hadn't heard anything from next door until just now. With Sam gone, Dean was about to head over, and tell Cas to come back, hang out. After all, he was an _angel_. It wasn't like he was watching to clean the pipes.

Well… at least that's what he thought until suddenly, he heard a rough moan over the quiet din of the porno. Dean thought he must have imagined it. Still, his hand left the doorknob, and he got closer. He climbed onto his bed, and pressed his ear to the wall, breathing shallowly. He heard another groan, this one _clearly _not coming from the TV, and Dean drew back.

Holy shit.

He got off of the bed and kicked on his jeans, before shrugging into a shirt. He pulled his boots on and high-tailed it out of there.

He wasn't going to listen to his friend masturbate. _No_ _fucking way_, that was too weird. What was even weirder was how hard Dean suddenly was.

Fuck this. He'd walk until his boner went away, no matter how painful it was, and get some pie at a diner. And he'd speak of this to no one, certainly not to Cas.

But that was then and this was now. After the first time, Dean had heard him again, and again. Thankfully, Sam hadn't heard either time. Once, he'd been on a burger run; the other time, he'd been asleep. Dean got into the shower to drown it out the second time – a cold shower. The third time, Dean had suffered silently, cursing himself for forgetting his iPod. It had been late at night, and Sam was dead to the world, but Dean had more dignity than that. He wasn't a horny teenager anymore – he wasn't going to jerk it with Sam not ten feet away in some dingy hotel room.

This time was the fourth time, and Sam wouldn't be home 'til morning. This time, Cas hadn't bothered with pay-per-view. This time, the walls between their rooms were thinner, and Dean could hear _everything_.

Dean heard the sound of skin-on-skin, hand on cock if the moans Cas let out were anything to go by. Cas was vocal as hell, and Dean didn't know whether to be surprised or aroused. Of course, he was both now, and he let his hand trail down his naked torso, and put a tentative hand to the swell in his boxers. He bit his bottom lip, sucking in a sharp breath. He looked towards the window, making sure he'd secured the curtains, and to the locked door. As a small sigh left plush lips from the room next door, Dean wriggled out of his shorts.

Dean had gotten back early enough from the bar to get set up before Cas had started. He'd felt silly, preparing himself for something that might not come to pass. But as soon as he'd heard the first soft sigh from the man's lips, he smiled slyly to himself. He looked over to his bedside table, and picked up the bottle of lube. He opened it and squirted some onto his other hand, and capped the bottle. He set it on the bed beside him and pressed his hands together. He warmed the slick silicone lubricant between his palms, and pressed a fingertip to his nipple. The slippery feeling against the pink nub made it pebble in arousal, and he did the same to the other. He didn't know why, but he loved the feeling of his nipples hard and wet, exposed to the cold air.

On the other side of the wall, Cas was on his bed, on his knees, breathing heavily. He'd paused for a moment, taking his hand off his cock to pull gently on his balls. Aside from the stimulation it brought, the action allowed him greater control of his body's responses, and brought him back from the edge. He didn't want this to be over too fast. He had only discovered the pleasure touching himself brought in the last month, and he still had so much to learn about this body, (now) his own body.

Dean's lubed palm closed over his cock, and began a slow stroke upward. His other hand trailed lower, to his perineum. He shifted down onto his back, and listened. He could still hear Cas' heavy breathing from down here, against his pillow. He breathed a sigh of relief, because the temptation was too great. As he began a stroke downward, his fingers brushed over the puckered skin of his hole. Dean bit his lip harder, swallowing back a moan.

He wondered what Cas was thinking about, if he wasn't watching porn. His mind briefly went to the witnesses they'd interviewed today, and he tried to remember if he had seen Cas stare at any of them. He didn't think so.

That stare… that intense stare Cas seemed to focus almost solely on him was at once intimidating and flattering. Cas stared at Dean as if he was the only person, the only thing in the room that mattered when the two were together. Sometimes it felt like Cas could see through his skin and that was weird as fuck, but other times, he just felt like he was being contemplated. Like Cas had some idea about Dean and sought to confirm it by gathering information – by watching Dean's every move, by studying and later dissecting what he said. Dean had never felt like that before: like he mattered so much to someone in a way completely divorced from familial love.

Cas had decided his break was over, and slowly stroked his cock with one hand, while running a hand over his chest and stomach with the other. For some reason, he found great pleasure in touching those particular areas. While his nipples themselves weren't especially sensitive, he loved the feeling of a hand dragging slowly down his stomach and across his hips as he worked his cock.

Dean could tease himself forever, but from the noises Cas was making, he knew _he_ didn't have forever. He took a deep breath, and pushed against his rim. His breath caught in his throat, and he quickly applied more lube. It hadn't hurt, but wetter was always better. He tried again, and was rewarded with his finger sinking into himself. As he gripped his length, his thumb swiping over the dark head of his cock, he moved the digit carefully, his fingertip brushing the wall of his passage. As he searched for his prostate, he began to fuck his fist in earnest. Even with back door play, Dean knew he'd need more stimulation than this.

Cas, on the other hand, seemed to have trouble controlling himself. He gripped the base of his cock, pressing a thumb up along the underside until he calmed down. He'd learned to do that on accident one night, and found that his eventual orgasm had been much more satisfying because of it.

As he began slowly stroking again, his mind went to what had gotten him so hard in the first place: Dean at the bar. Cas had gone out with Sam and Dean earlier that night, with every intention of getting drunk and playing pool with the boys. However, once Sam had slunk off into a booth with some redhead and it was just him and Dean, the night had gotten more interesting. Cas noticed Dean relaxed around him in a way he didn't while his brother was around. He didn't worry if he appeared kinder or sometimes even effeminate around Cas. He ordered a Cosmo from the waitress and shrugged. "I know it's pink, but I haven't had one in awhile," Dean had explained, and his face lit up when the waitress brought it back. After the Cosmo, Dean had gone back to beer but he fiddled with the label and as he took a long drink from the bottle, Cas licked his lips. The way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the cool liquid and the press of Dean's pink lips to the top had caused blood to rush to his face. Cas suddenly thought of those lips on something _else_, and suddenly, the blood rushed downstairs. He drew his coat tight around him and stood, making an excuse before leaving.

Dean… Dean was amazing in so many ways. He was strong and kind and so dedicated to helping those he cared for. But beyond that, beyond his good heart, was his frankly awe-inspiring appearance. Cas hadn't seen Dean until that night in the barn, not really. He'd seen his beautiful, glowing soul, but the strength of it had outshone his body to the point of nearly blinding when the two reconnected. But that night in the barn, Cas was awestruck. Although his soul shone brightly still, if Cas focused, he could see the rest of Dean. He had been mesmerized by the man's green eyes and even though he saw fear and anger in them, he stared just the same.

As Cas had gotten to know Dean, as he begun to doubt heaven and chose free will, it had gotten easier to control his grace. And by controlling his powers, he began to see Dean in the way that humans saw him – not as this bright silhouette with startling green eyes, but as a man. A tall, capable man with wheat-colored hair and a constellation of freckles smattered across his skin. A man with plush lips and a strong jaw. A man made of muscle and sentiment and-

"Dean" he sighed, the exclamation cutting off his thought as he felt himself get close again.

Dean suddenly froze, two fingers crooked inside himself, pressed on his prostate. Had Cas heard him? That was impossible, he'd been nearly silent. He felt himself unclench, and Dean stroked that spot inside. Maybe he was hearing things.

But oh, how he wished he wasn't. He wished he could hear Cas sigh his name into the shell of his ear, or better yet, moan it at his completion.

Cas was, well, he was something else. Dean thought of the man's strong limbs, and of his lanky, hairless torso. He thought about the way the man radiated power and determination, yet also naïveté and his lips curled, thinking back to that night at the brothel. He thought about how he wanted to press his lips up against those soft, flat ones, wondered how Cas' stubble would feel against his cheek. He imagined how said stubble would feel against his lips, as he kissed down the man's neck. He remembered the way the man's slacks had tented when he watched the pizza man, and he wondered some more.

Dean wondered what Cas looked like under those slacks. He wondered if the man was cut or uncut, if he man-scaped or had some crazy bush going on, and how big he was. He wondered which way Cas' cock curved, and if it was like his (average size, dark head, lighter shaft), or completely different. He wondered what the girth was like and if it would fit in his mouth or gag him. These thoughts nearly drove him crazy. He was torn between getting up, kicking the door down next door to find out and staying where he was, and fucking himself harder, faster. Sanity won out and he chose the latter, but his curiosity was burning him up inside.

Cas let his mind return to his earlier thought at the bar. How would Dean's lips look around his cock? How would Dean's mouth feel on his length, his tongue lapping toward the base or swirling around the head? How would Dean sound when his throat had been fucked raw from sucking his cock? How would Dean's taste when he'd swallowed Cas down? Cas shuddered, and it was too much. With a sobbed moan of _"Dean,"_ Cas finally came.

His hand stilled as it spilled out of him onto the sheet below. His hips jerked of their own accord, and his muscles went rigid before relaxing. As his orgasm came to an end, he whispered a "Damn" before his knees gave out on him. He lay back against the bed and tried to catch his breath.

On the other side of the wall, Dean was so, _so_ close. He knew he hadn't imagined it this time; Cas had practically shouted his name. His fingertips pressed into his prostate and he stroked faster. He hadn't meant to, but as he felt his orgasm pull him under, he sighed out a _"Cas!"_ The exclamation seemed to startle him more than anything and his eyes flew open as he came. As it pulsed out over his hand and onto his stomach he gently removed his fingers from himself. He let out other little sighs of pleasure, as white washed over his vision.

When he came back down, he seemed to have the presence of mind to clean himself up. As he washed up and pulled his boxers on, he heard a sound come from the door. He turned towards it, and Sam swung the door wide open. He staggered through the doorway, and shut the door behind him, looking slightly confused.

"Dean?" He slurred, "Yurr still up?" Dean looked at the alarm clock near his bed – it was nearly 4 am.

"Sammy, what are you doing here? Weren't you going home with Jessica Rabbit?" He knew his brother was probably too drunk for references, but he was also surprised as hell to see the guy already.

"Went. Did it – she kicked me out, dropped me off. Said it was too soon after her last boyfriend for me to stay the night…" Sam still slightly slurred his words, but he looked down at the carpet sadly.

"Hey, man… sorry to hear it. But you got laid, right? Silver lining, little bro." He clapped the man on the arm, and quickly shoved the bottle of lube still on his bed into his duffle. His cheeks colored, and he cleared his throat, hoping Sam hadn't seen. "How was it?"

"Awesome," Sam replied, his face breaking into a dreamy grin. He fell back against the bed, and fell asleep. Dean sighed and pulled the man's boots off, before righting him on the bed. It was warm enough that he didn't bother tucking him in, just crawled under his own covers and switched the light off. He wondered if Cas had heard him, but before he could beat himself up about it, sleep pulled him under too.

Cas had fully come down and was cleaning up when he heard the sighed "Cas!" from the room next door. His muscles tensed, fearing he'd been caught or worse. When the sounds that followed were gentle exclamations of pleasure, Cas realized Dean had been doing the same thing. But… if _Dean_ could be heard from _his_ room, did that mean _he_ could be heard from _Dean's_? His stomach swooped sickeningly. He got dressed and was about to go next door to "clear up" the situation (that was, lie straight to the Winchester's face) when he heard Sam's voice. He slowly undressed and got in the shower instead. _He'll forget_, he told himself.

The next morning, Sam woke with a groan as the twin alarms went off. He stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom. After a much-needed shower, he "returned to the world of the living," as Dean would say. Dean snagged the next shower while Sam went out to get breakfast, and by the time he got back, Dean was ready to go. As Sam unwrapped their breakfast burritos and took the coffees out of their carrier, he said, "Dean, can you get Cas? We got to get going in fifteen."

Dean smirked a little to himself and answered, "Sure thing, Sasquatch."

"Don't call me that," Sam huffed as Dean disappeared out the door. Dean leisurely walked the seven steps in between the rooms, and knocked on the door: "Cas? You awake there buddy?"

The door swung open, and Cas replied, "Hello, Dean."

"Hey, Cas. We gotta go in fifteen minutes."

"Angels do not require sleep," Cas added, and Dean stared at him. Cas was being… weirder than usual. Fuck, he'd heard.

Well, the cat's out of the bag, now… Dean looked around, and stepped into the room, making Cas step back to let him in. Dean kicked the door close and backed Cas into the small table near the door. Dean crowded up against Cas, nearly touching.

He looked down into Cas' eyes and Cas asked, "Dean, what are you-"

"I heard you, Cas," Dean interrupted quietly, and he watched as the angel's eyes widened. With a smirk, he added, "And I know you heard me, too." Cas' eyes widened further, and before the angel could say anything else, Dean reached a hand out and grabbed the back of the man's neck. His fingers carding through the soft brown hair, he pulled gently, making Cas look up at him. Dean closed his eyes, and brought his lips to Cas'. His kiss was gentle, exploratory. Cas relaxed against him and kissed back. When Dean drew away breathless, he was pleased to notice he'd left the other man the same way.

His lips curled into a smile, and with a conspiratory look on his face, he whispered "Not a word to Sam." He released his hold on Cas' hair and backed away, before turning on his heel. "See you in ten."

As the door closed, Cas felt his face breaking into a smile. He reached a hand up, and touched his lips – they tingled. He gave his key back to the man at the front desk and as he walked through the door to the Winchester's room, they were finishing up their burritos, as Sam recounted his fuzzy memory of last night. Dean handed a cup of coffee to Cas; he looked back at him gratefully and took a sip. He stared off into space, grinning like an idiot.

Sam eyed him skeptically and asked, "Something wrong, Cas?" He knew, from past experience that if Cas was smiling like he was half-mad, he probably was.

"No Sam, nothing at all. Things are… Good." He seemed a little surprised at the statement himself, but kept grinning. The Winchesters looked at each other, and then back at Cas. "All right," Dean answered agreeing, and let his own face break out into a smile. There was this moment of mutual understanding that soon had Sam smiling as well. For once, Team Free Will _was_ good – and they _meant_ it.


End file.
